The Clairvoyant

He sat across from me, 

Eyelids drawn over his whirlpool eyes, 

His skin picked with bright young scars and all the echoes of honey. 

 
 As I sit comfortable with my sloped spine, 

Soaking in the blue sky and changing my colours, 

I wonder at the fabric of the world, 

That we two meet, 

Seat to seat, 

And face a lifetime of choices. 

 
 I can see our hands, 

The time dance across our faces, 

Bitter separations and stagnant routines, 

I can see monotony, phone calls, short nights in the dark and all that makes us laugh becoming 

Dull and metal. 

 
I see how I save the boy then spare his life 

From wasted midnight conversations 

And the emptiness of being known unknown, 

 
Of cold snapped covers 

 
and 

Bloody sheets. 

 
 I step off the train, 

And the visions shatter into 

bright dew light, 

 
 I can see the future. 

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